The MacLeod & Methos Show
by Dagger and Sword
Summary: Of Slugs And The Seven Dwarfs... first part of what might become a series of oneshots. Enjoy!


**The MacLeod & Methos Show**

Highlander stories by Dagger & Sword

_Disclaimer_: We don't own anything of the Highlander franchise. This is just for fun.

A/N: This is the result of dialogue practise written on messenger. LOL It was a lot of fun. Big thanks go to _mandassina_ for her help. Please enjoy.

**Of Slugs and the Seven Dwarfs**

Stepping out into the warm summer night Duncan MacLeod looked up at the sky. It was a clear night, but still the stars were shrouded by a haze that came from the bright city lights of Seacouver.

_Civilization,_ he thought wistfully. _If you want to see the stars you've got to be in the countryside._

Hearing his companion follow him he turned his head.

"I still can't believe he fried those slugs alive," he commented on the TV show they had watched at Joe's, the bar owned by their friend and Watcher, Joe Dawson.

"Would you rather he just popped them in his mouth?" Methos asked.

Glancing sideways at the Old Man with sour amusement Duncan remarked, "He wouldn't have done that. We're not in the bronze age anymore."

"Even in the bronze age we knew better than to have raw slugs for lunch."

"Yeah? Humour me!"

Grimacing at the Highlander Methos indignantly said, "MacLeod! We had slaves to cook for us!"

Sarcasm dripping from every word MacLeod told him, "And here I thought you did that yourselves."

"Well, I did when _I_ was the slave."

That admission stunned MacLeod.

"Now that's new… You were a slave?"

Squirming a little uncomfortably Methos nodded. "Yeah… got caught by bandits and was sold to a Roman senator."

Feeling the mood slip MacLeod tried to save it, "And you worked there as a cook? Why does that image _not_ appeal to me?"

It did not make the Old Man chuckle but at least one of his trademark half-smiles appeared.

"Actually no, I was not the cook. I was the senator's advisor. He preferred that over my cooking." Thoughtfully he added, "Still can't understand that, by the way."

"Well, I can!" MacLeod taunted. "Just let me remind you of those lentils and chestnuts! I didn't leave the bathroom for two days!"

Methos pouted.

"That wasn't my cooking, MacLeod. Just lentils being lentils."

MacLeod snorted.

"So let's assume you're right about the lentils… What about that dessert you told me was ice cream? It somehow didn't taste like that and it did strange things to my stomach the whole night."

Confusion wrinkled Methos's forehead until he remembered, "Oh, that!" He grinned. "Well, that was brown bread ice cream. It's a delicacy… with Scotch whiskey."

Duncan was horrified.

"You used Scotch whiskey for THAT?"

"For my friends only the best ingredients, Highlander."

"I should be glad it wasn't poison," MacLeod gasped under his breath. Aloud he said, "Maybe next time you should let me do the cooking."

Having heard him mutter Methos remarked, "I died of fugu once, MacLeod. Never doing that again. Thanks, but no thanks."

"And why not? I had to… _taste_ your specialties, so you could return the favour."

"You make it sound like I forced it down your throat," Methos huffed indignantly. "As far as I remember you ate voluntarily. What do you want me to cook? A succulent steak?"

"Yeah, why not?" MacLeod frayed. "Cooking a perfect steak is an art form. I could do that for you. I saw a chef in Spain, 1882, grill the most excellent steak I ever had."

Snorting Methos retorted, "I _can_ do that. I _was_ a chef in Italy, 1953. But where would be the fun in that?"

"Prove it!"

It sounded like a challenge, so Methos answered accordingly.

"Where and when?"

"The loft. Tomorrow. Seven pm. And I will choose the ingredients this time. Just to make sure there is nothing _too_ fancy winding up on my plate."

"Accepted, Highlander. Will Joe be your second?"

Scowling deeply MacLeod shook his head.

"No… I think I'll go with Amanda. At least, _she_ has a chance to survive your cooking skills."

Smirking at that Methos sweetly said, "Amanda loves my lentils and chestnuts."

"Amanda loves…?" Incredulously Duncan trailed off. "How did _Amanda_ happen to taste your chestnuts?"

"By picking up a fork."

"You damn well know that is NOT what I meant!" the Highlander snarled, and Methos could not tell if the flush that rose in his cheeks was due to embarrassment or irritation.

"She didn't use her fingers… though, those are lovely fingers, by the way… and she did not need to pilfer them either."

"METHOS!"

For that the ancient immortal just glared at his friend.

"Maybe I should cook for Amanda myself," MacLeod mused aloud. "And I _am_ tempted to prepare fugu."

"She'll be a lovely Snow White."

Duncan stopped dead in his tracks.

"Lovely, innocent Snow White… Tell me, what is it that troubles me about this picture?"

"The crown jewels she pilfered just before seducing the seven dwarfs into keeping the evil stepmother off her tracks?"

MacLeod had made the last steps to his car, but hearing that suggestion he doubled over with laughter, leaning against the side of the Thunderbird. He laughed so hard that tears glistened in his eyes.

"What? What did I say?" Methos prodded.

"What you…?" Duncan gasped between laughter. "Exactly my thoughts. Just don't let Amanda hear you said that or you're dead."

Methos shrugged. "I've called her worse."

"Oh, yeah?" Duncan challenged. "And when would that have been?"

Smirking Methos snickered, "Is that another attempt at finding out how she happened to taste my chestnuts?"

"I don't care about your chestnuts!"

"I know."

Oblivious to the wry quip Duncan went on, "All I want to know is why the hell she would have dinner with YOU of all people!"

Methos's smirk became somewhat lascivious as he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his raincoat and tilted his head to the side.

"Who said anything about dinner?"

When he saw the Old Man's eyebrow rise Duncan's jaw dropped. No reply came over his lips so all he could do was watch Methos disappear into the night. Before he was out of earshot as well the ancient Immortal called over his shoulder, "It was lunch!"

tbc…?


End file.
